


Daydream in Blue

by rainier_day



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Converging One Shots, Eventual Happy Ending, Fade to Black, Gen, M/M, Secret Relationship, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-06 23:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainier_day/pseuds/rainier_day
Summary: "Molly was never under any illusion that he was going to live to a ripe old age. The circumstances of his life were too strange and riddled with pitfalls."1. Molly2. Caleb3. Yasha





	1. Mollymauk

**Author's Note:**

> I just have very strong feelings about Mollymauk still

Things start unraveling in Zadash.

Mollymauk, specifically, can feel himself starting to come undone.

It starts with a thread.

It starts with Cree.  

Picking at it, things quickly escalate in the Zone of Truth with the Mighty Nein pressing for answers he didn't have and didn't want to give. Although he wishes he had more time to come up with wild tales of his humble beginnings, at the end of the night, it's a weight off his shoulders to speak the meagre truth and be done with it.

If he was the type to introspect and retrospect, he would breathe a sigh of relief that the group forced the truth out of him sooner rather than later because Molly starts dreaming again soon after.

He's standing in a maze of mirrors. It looks like the same one they had back in the carnival if the cheaply decorated mirrors are anything to go by. Small, dinky, more of a hallway than a maze, he's walked through it more than just a few times when he needed to check his hair or to make sure the stars appeared just so on his coat when he sauntered.

Undaunted, he starts walking down the familiar corridor, a clear path worn into the floorboards by those who wandered through before. And then the world tilts.

Molly pauses and looks down. The path is gone. Then he looks up at the mirror in front of him. The tiefling standing there looks back, startled, but then he looks down and they can both see that the path is there, underneath the mirror image's feet.

He tries banging his fists against the glass and yelling curses in Common and Infernal but his copy merely stares blankly at him, his expression etched with hard lines, entirely too solemn, too serious on his face. Turning around, the tattoos fade and the charms on his horns fall away. His hair gets shorn and Molly watches the man who'd once been buried in the ground walk away without looking back.

Eyes snapping open, he sits up in his bed and looks around. Fjord is sound asleep in the other bed, undisturbed by him or whatever nightmare had him coughing up seawater before. Throwing the covers back, he slips out of bed and makes his way downstairs.

With only the most dedicated clients left in the bar, he weaves around a snoring halfling and ignores the side-eye an older human gives him.

“Sleep not agreeing with you, friend?” the barkeep asks, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Tossing his coin down, Molly shrugs. “We had a bit of a disagreement is all. Nothing a pint can't fix.”

The dragonborn spares him a chuckle and slides over an ale. Raising the mug in thanks, he finds an empty table and takes a seat and pulls out his cards. He gives the deck a quick shuffle and pulls out three cards and lays them out in front of him.

The Moon.

Nine of Swords.

Death.

“Well fuck me running,” he sighs, sliding the cards back into the deck and ordering another ale.

\--

“Are you alright, Mollymauk?”

He glances over at Yasha and smiles. “Perfect. Couldn't be better.”

The words are sincere, or he believes they are. He feels alright despite having drank his night away with little sleep. Things are easier during the day. More people, more distractions, more deaths to narrowly avoid.

Frumpkin uncurls himself from Yasha's shoulders and rolls into a ball in his lap, purring. Molly frowns and looks over just in time to see Caleb turning his head away. “Wow, that bad, huh?”

From the other table, Beau, who was tracking the wizard’s line of sight, shouts, “You look like shit, Molly!”

“Love you too!” he shouts back.

As if not noticing the exchange, Yasha shrugs. “You know you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“I know, dear,” he sighs, leaning back and wrapping his tail loosely around her ankle. “It’s nothing dangerous but probably not good either. I just…don't really know what this is yet and if I'm being honest, I don't really care to find out. Tell you what though, if I ever figure it out, you'll be the first to know.”

She spares him a soft, encouraging smile. “Okay. I can wait.”

In his short life so far as Mollymauk Tealeaf, he can scarcely think of anything that warms his heart more than Yasha.

“Great!” He claps his hands together and announces, “In the meantime, what I want is booze and lots of it. Next round's on me.” Then he turns to the other table and raises his voice, “Except for you, Beau!”

Without looking, Beau raises a hand and flips him off. “Fuck you, Molly!”

He grins. “Fuck you too!”

\--

He wakes up with a gasp, fingers clawing at his chest only to look around and see his room at the Leaky Tap. No dirt on top of him, plenty of air, no mirror image of him crawling out of the shallow grave and leaving him behind.

Scrubbing his face, Molly sits up and takes a shaky breath. Without much thought, he makes his way downstairs and gets himself a drink.

A quick scan of the room tells him he probably won't have much luck finding a companion for the night and he knows from past experience that the bathhouse has closed for the day. His tail flicks against the leg of the chair in frustration and he pulls out his cards to try to distract himself from the feeling of dirt still lingering on his skin.

Cards shuffling easily in well-practiced hands, he pulls out the top card and flips it and frowns at the sight of hands reaching out of their graves.

Judgement.

“You do not seem very happy with that card, Mollymauk,” comes a quiet voice, startling him from his thoughts.

He looks up to see Caleb standing there, looking strangely bare without his heavy long coat and tattered scarf, his expression as worn out and restless as Molly feels. “Hello, Caleb, I was just trying to...distract myself. What brings you down here?”

The wizard purses his lips for a moment and holds up a book. “I suppose I was also looking for a distraction,” he says, his accent just ever so slightly thicker in his weariness. “I thought I might try reading.”

His tail swishes lazily in the air as he rests his head against his knuckles. “Is it really something you can read away?”

Caleb doesn't answer.

What happens next is a blur. Coins exchanged for another key, a door closing, lips on his, rough fingers over scarred skin.

Quiet gasps.

Breathy whispers.

“ _Mollymauk_.”

\--

Staring up at the ceiling, oozing with satisfaction, he finally feels grounded again. Next to him, Caleb shifts, restless again but for a different reason. “I...this was—”

Attention now on his companion, Molly reaches up and gently cups the man's face. “Hey, none of that now. Not in here.”

“I'm sorry,” Caleb mutters instinctively.

“No. There will be no apologies here. No forgiveness. Leave that outside the door. Don't use me as fuel for your pain,” he says firmly. “That world out there with all those problems? Our problems? They're outside. They don't matter. They're not here.”

The man blinks, still skeptical but calmer now. “They're not here. Can it really be that simple?”

Molly smiles and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Of course it can. You can pick all your issues back up on your way out and continue lugging them around if you want but right now, this is just you and me.”

Caleb's brows furrow, seeming to mull over his words. “And by that you mean?”

He shrugs easily. “We’re both here. It doesn't have to mean anything more.”

\--

Yasha knows. Despite both of them having returned to their own rooms before dawn, she gives him a look in the morning that he merely grins at. He's never had been able to hide anything from her—the only person in the world he's never felt the need to.

She doesn't question his judgement. That's not what they do. But he feels the need to reassure her anyway, “No need to fret, my dear, there was just a mutual need for distraction.”

“Just let me know if we need to start packing,” she says, tone now amused. Reaching up, she untangles one of the chains dangling from his horn.

Leaning forward to give her better access, Molly arches a brow and points out, “You don't have anything to pack.”

A faint smile. “No, but I'd have to make sure to grab you on the way out, you know?”

It could be that simple. One word and she would leave Zadash with him to wherever he wanted. No questions asked. No more Cree, no more Lucien, no more Gentleman.

But it's already too late.

He thinks back to the dreams and the encroaching feeling of emptiness, of loss—of some quiet finale.

Gesturing to the barkeep for a round of breakfast, Molly takes a seat and shakes his head. “And miss out on all the fun here? Not yet.”

\--

Amidst the chaos of their daily lives with the Mighty Nein, he and Caleb learn ways to seek each other out. A lingering gaze, a passing flick of the tail, they learn to read the signs.

The inevitability of living on borrowed time seems less pressing when pressed down against the sheets.

Molly sighs, feeling lips against his throat. His back arches, hands rake through his hair, chasing away any lingering anxieties and bringing him back to the present.

Glancing up at Caleb, hovering over him, sweat running down his face, he grins and reaches up and hisses in Infernal, “ _Beautiful_.”

The wizard's breath hitches. “Mollymauk... _fuck_.”

\--

The relief he feels when they leave Zadash is palpable. Sitting against a tree, he tilts his head and rests it against Yasha's arm and pulls a flower from his pocket. “Before it gets destroyed.”

She smiles and accepts it, her touch unexpectedly delicate and gentle to anyone who doesn't know her. “Thank you, Molly. I don't think I have this one yet.”

Watching her press the flower into her book for that person still so beloved, he smiles and nestles in. “You’re lucky I spotted this. I pick the best flowers.”

Yasha looks over and nods. “You do. I think she'll like it.”

“Hey, just so we're clear, I don't—”

“Molly! Yasha! Are you done with your nap? Fjord says we need to get going even though we technically stopped for him, technically!” Jester calls, jumping and waving from the cart.

He pushes himself onto his feet and stretches. “Well, you heard her. Let's go.”

Getting up, Yasha shoots him a look of concern. “What were you trying to say just now?”

Molly shakes his head and shrugs. “Nothing horrible. I'm glad you're here with me. Where would I be without my charm?”

She smiles. “I'm glad you're here with me too, Mollymauk.”

Someday, if Yasha decides to remember him, he hopes she'll bring him stories rather than flowers.

\--

Without the clear divide of a room, their late night meetings turn into watches. Fleeting touches and passing kisses in the rain and it never means anything more.

To his surprise, Caleb is the first to break the silence, toeing past the invisible line that had been drawn. “Mollymauk, I have been thinking…”

Molly perks up, sleepiness momentarily forgotten. They're sitting close together around a small fire that seems to be struggling against the rain, now died down to a drizzle. “What about, Caleb? Don't tell me you've been distracted by thoughts of me all day.”

He almost gets a smile. “No, not quite. I was thinking that everything has a price. To do what I want, even just to travel with this group. There's a price, ja?”

Humming thoughtfully, he prods at their meagre fire. He briefly considers pushing for more detail but quickly decides against it and shrugs. “We _are_ a colourful group. And a bunch of terrible assholes.”

This time, he does get a chuckle. “That is objectively true.”

“So you've been thinking of prices? Was there anything in particular?”

A little sheepishly, Caleb nods. “Ja, I got to wondering if it costs you more to remain as you are or to remember.” Then flustered, he quickly adds, “This is all simply theoretical—just idle curiosity if you will. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I don't mean to push you one way or the other.”

Staring into the fire, he smiles drily. “I was afraid you were going to ask me a riddle. I’m no good with those. The answer to your question is easy. It would far cost more to remember.”

Caleb blinks. “Really? Despite the knowledge you would gain?”

“Well, living as I do costs me nothing,” Molly says, raising his hands to mimic a scale. “And like I said, none of the stuff that came before means anything to me so the value is zero, _ja_?”

The man spares him an unimpressed look. “Cute. So it balances out.”

Molly shakes his head. “Not quite. If I remember all the stuff from pre-Mollymauk Tealeaf, no matter what knowledge I gain, I don't think it’d be possible for me to be me anymore.” He brings down one of his hands. “So simply put, remembering would cost Mollymauk. That’s pretty pricey in my humble opinion.”

The wizard makes a thoughtful noise and says, “I did not think of it that way. That is a very steep price indeed.”

Grinning, he leans in for a quick kiss. “I'm glad you agree.”

Although Caleb leans in to meet him halfway, he points out, “Your coat is going to catch on fire if you keep moving like that.”

“Was that an invitation to sit a little closer?”

In the light of fire, he can’t tell whether the colour in Caleb’s cheeks is from the cold or embarrassment.

\--

“Are you alright, Mollymauk?”

“You’ve been asking me that an awful lot.” He looks over and steps in a particularly deep puddle and scowls, trying to yank his foot back out. “Okay. Could be better and _would_ be better if that didn't just happen.”

Yasha reaches down and gives his leg a quick tug, setting him free. She gives a quick glance over at Kiri before raising a brow at him.

“The bird is fine, dear, the bird is great. Just, maybe not under these circumstances,” he says quietly. “Even with a knife.”

“You're afraid something will happen to her?” she asks.

Molly shrugs. “Seems like a bad idea to get close to something that could disappear so easily.” A wry smile tugs at his lips. “I'm probably the last person who should be saying that.”

At this, Yasha frowns. “Have you been having dreams again?”

He nods. “There were faces this time. Cree's and other people. I didn't recognize the others but,” he takes a deep breath, “it's not like we weren't prepared for this.”

Death by remembering, death by someone who remembers him, death by dying, just some of the many ways he'll stop _being_ someday.

Yasha's lips press into a thin line and she reaches down, grasping his hand tightly. Looking up, he sees her face scrunched up with clear reluctance and fear.

Despite himself, he laughs and gives her a hug. “Don't be like that.”

“Don't make me lose you too,” she says, barely above a whisper, mismatched eyes looking solemnly down at him.

“Not yet,” he promises. “There's still plenty of time and so much more shenanigans to get up to. And a bird.” He glances up at a passing window and studies his reflection. “And maybe another tattoo.”

If he has to give this body up…

Well, he sure hopes the fucker likes tattoos.

\--

They finally check themselves into the nicer inn in Labenda Swamp. It's still kind of a shithole, but at least it's a dry one.

Bandaged hands underneath weathered clothing. Jewellery jingling as he tosses his head back. His tail curling lazily amidst the afterglow and it doesn't have to mean anything more.

“You say that every time, Mister Mollymauk. Is it because you don't want it to be more or is it a reminder?”

He chuckles and rolls onto his side to tap the wizard's head lightly with a finger. “Is 'more’ within your capability right now, Mister Caleb?”

Caleb narrows his eyes in displeasure and doesn't answer.

With a helpless shrug, he says, “I think you have too much on your plate for 'more’ right now. No shame in it. No judgement. We can speak about 'more’ at a later time.” He kisses the spot he tapped. “For now, it doesn't have to mean anything at all.”

\--

It's been a day since the amusingly botched bandit attack and they've stopped off the side of the road to give the horses a break. Footsteps approach him as he lies in the open field, and without opening his eyes, he pats the grass next to him.

Yasha lies down beside him and says, “You should at least look at who it is.”

Molly smiles. “No need. I always know when my charm is near.”

They spend a minute in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's company and he can almost convince himself that they're back at the carnival.

There's a soft mew and he sits up. He winces when his hair gets snagged and picks up loose pieces of grass. Yasha immediately moves to help him as he picks Frumpkin up and pulls him into his lap.

Somewhere on the cart, Caleb dips his head down further, hiding his face behind his book.

“Your hair's gotten long again,” Yasha says, unknotting a particularly long blade of grass from his hair. “Should I cut it for you?”

Molly shakes his head. “No, I think I'll grow it out this time. How long do you think I can get it?”

She shrugs. “Not very long. You always end up cutting it with your swords.”

Blinking in thought, he nods. “That's true. You are right as always, Yasha. I probably won't get very far with it anyway. I remembered more. Names to faces and all that. It's still vague but I'm remembering and I don't like it.”

Yasha makes a face that he's come to know as grief. “How much longer?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replies, wishing he had something more comforting to offer.

A hand rests gently on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not afraid, if that's what you're asking. I don't think I am. A little pissed off maybe. This seems like a good group. I'd like to see where they go,” he says, stroking Frumpkin behind the ear idly. “It’s a huge mess and not quite a family yet, but it's a start.”

He hopes he leaves them better than he found them.

Turning to his best friend, he reaches out and pulls her in for a kiss on the cheek. “I wonder how you'll remember me?”

“That’s easy. I'll remember you as my Mollymauk,” she says, placing a kiss on one of his horns.

Laughing, he grins. “I'm into that.” Then more seriously, he asks, “This isn't in any way your fault, you know that right, Yasha? You're family. Remember that. You're the charm.”

\--

Hupperdook meets every expectation and more. His only regret is that they weren't able to make use of the drink tokens they won before leaving.

The two of them take advantage of tavern rooms, having been too drunk the night before. They're both a little worn and battered but there's no telling what they'll run into in an outlaw town like Shadycreek Run.

“Mister Caleb.”

Eyes cracking back open, Caleb asks, “Yes, Mister Mollymauk?”

“Your memory, it's perfect?” he asks.

“Very nearly, I believe. Why? Are you trying to remember something?” the wizard asks, voice cracking a little from sleep.

The conversation is so casual, it would be easy to pretend that they're something more. “How many stars do I have on my coat?”

“Thirty-nine and the asymmetry bothers me,” Caleb answers with a groan.

A laugh of surprise escapes him before he can think better of it. “That’s great. I don't even know if it's true but you've convinced me.”

Now awake, Caleb inhales deeply and frowns. “Was that all?”

“Not all,” Molly says, dropping his voice into a sultry whisper. “I was hoping to have you remember me some more.”

He feels a shiver run down the wizard's back. “Gods, Mollymauk, you are insatiable.”

“Good,” he laughs softly. “Remember me that way.”

\--

The ground is cold and he feels emptied out as his eyes try to focus on the hazy morning sky. Despite bleeding out fast, he feels a morbid sense of triumph over himself.

_My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf._ _Fuck you, Lucien._

_This life ends with me._

A figure looms over him and he feels the glaive embedded in his chest jostle as meaty hands adjust their grip on it. The pain snaps him back to reality.

Molly scowls and spits.

 _And fuck you too_.

Lorenzo huffs, wiping the blood off with the back of his hand. He nods and reaches back for the glaive.

And he twists.

\--

 

Epilogue:

Fingers reaching up through the ground, flinging dirt and flowers to the side, he sits up with a gasp. Coughing and gagging, he leans forward and drags himself out of the earth completely.

Glancing up to the midday sun, he crawls forward and rests, his lungs straining from disuse and struggling to draw in air. He looks down at his dirt-caked hands, still adorned with gaudy rings of every make and colour.

He raises his hands and wiggles his fingers before sliding the rings off, one by one, pocketing the most valuable looking ones and discarding the rest. Then a glimmer catches his eye and he looks up at the ornaments decorating his horns and scowls.

Reaching up, he pauses when he feels something against his chest and pulls a piece of parchment from the folds of his clothes. Crimson eyes scan its contents before crumpling the page up and tossing it away. Returning to his original task, he tears the jewellery off his horns, stripping them of their gold and silver gilding and throws everything into the dirt as he struggles onto his feet.

Then, step by step, slow but determined, he leaves his shallow grave behind.

As he walks away, in the miniature garden that once sheltered his body, long, curved fingers gently pick up the discarded ornaments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarot card meanings:  
> The Moon - Unconscious, Illusions  
> Nine of Swords - Anxiety, Hopelessness  
> Death - End of Cycles, New Beginnings  
> Judgement - Reflection, Awakening/Rebirth


	2. Caleb

Returning to the grave doesn't make it any better. There's nothing soothing about this place.

No peace.

No closure.

No Mollymauk.

He watches Beau and Jester walk to the wooden marker, colourful coat still hanging on it, occasionally rustled by the wind. The women kneel down and speak softly to the grave.

Caleb swallows hard as he picks Nott up in his arms.

On some level, he'd known it'd be difficult. But even now as they gather around Mollymauk's grave, despite having watched him fall, his brain finds it hard to accept.

And then Yasha wakes up.

He feels her grief down to his bones as she screams, necrotic wings snapping out in her fury. Jester and Fjord try to talk to her but she leaves for some distant storm. There are more words, more things he should tell her before she disappears maybe forever this time. He opens his mouth but his throat feels tight and nothing comes out so he holds Nott closer instead.

Caduceus appears from the cart and he hears Jester say, “Wait. I want...I want to speak with Molly again. Just one more time at least. What if I cast Speak with Dead?”

Fjord frowns. “Jester, I don't think—”

“Don't,” Caleb says, stepping forward before he can stop himself. He doesn't want the image of Molly's disjointed spirit forever imprinted in his mind.

The rest of the group turn to him, waiting for an explanation.

Inhaling shakily, he says, “I don't think Mollymauk will be the one answering.”

He has a feeling that if Yasha had stayed a little longer, she would agree.

“Caleb, are you alright?” Nott asks quietly. “You're shaking.”

“I'm fine,” Caleb replies, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “We can't stay here.”

Making his way back to the cart, Ophelia Mardun crosses her arms. “I assume this is where you lost someone?”

“There's always a cost,” he rasps, “and we paid a very steep one.”

The trip back to Zadash is a quiet, solemn one. And it only feels worse when they get into the city. He keeps his jacket pulled tightly around himself as they finish up with the Gentleman.

It's easy to drink himself into a stupor in wake of everything that's happened.

\--

The next day proves to be even more difficult. Hungover and still reeling, the Mighty Nein split up for their first day. Nott takes her leave early in the morning and he's left alone with a promise to visit the Invulnerable Vagrant with some of the others later.

Stomaching his breakfast, if only barely, Caleb staunchly avoids looking up from his plate. In a place as familiar as this tavern, he knows his mind will play tricks on him if he does.

Softly, from the other side of the table, he hears Fjord tell Caduceus quietly, “You should try the sausage here. Molly said it was some of the best he ever had.”

He nearly flinches.

“Oh, that's wonderful, but I don't eat meat,” the cleric replies.

“That's too bad. I can take your share if you want,” Beau says between mouthfuls. There's a nudge under the table and she sputters, bits of eggs flying onto the table. “What, Fjord?”

Fjord makes a disapproving noise. “Rude. On so many levels.”

Caleb silently excuses himself from the table and leaves the Leaky Tap. In front of him, he can picture a familiar lavender tiefling leading the group down the street, pausing to let Yasha and Jester harass the town crier.

Following the memory, he finds himself in front of the bathhouse and sighs and swears under his breath. But seeing that he's already here, he steps inside and pays the fee and changes out of his clothes, taking a little time to set an alarm around his belongings.

The water is a little hot to the touch at first but he walks in without pause, forcing his body to acclimatize. As the sting of heat fades, he leans back and closes his eyes.

_Sharp fangs revealed as those lavender lips parted in a grin. “Oh? Did you bathe today? That's twice in one week! What's the special occasion?”_

_A blush dusted his cheeks as he pointedly averted his gaze. “Ah, nein. No, I just—I didn't have much of a choice, you see. I mean, after last night…”_

Mollymauk's peals of laughter still ringing in his mind, he hears a familiar grunt and looks over to see Beauregard sliding into the water next to him. “I somehow both expected and didn't expect to see you here.”

Shrugging, he looks down at his hands through the water. There's still dirt caked under his nails from burying—Caleb shakes his head, cutting himself off. “A lot has happened. A bath was welcomed.”

Still sullen, Beau nods. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Well, this is just great,” Caduceus says as he emerges from the changing room to look around the interior appraisingly. “I had a hot spring at the temple but this? This is nice.”

“Yeah, come on in, Deuce,” the monk calls out. “The water's great!”

One by one, the rest of the Mighty Nein drift in. First Fjord, then Nott the Brave, disguised and towed in by Jester. The cleric smiles when she sees them, surprised. “Oh Caleb! You're _bathing_! Did you come here yourself? Molly would be so proud!”

He frowns as Nott skitters over to sit by him at the edge of the bath. “You do realize I've bathed before, right? I mean, before I met you.”

Paying him no mind, Jester hops into the water and wades over to Beau and Caduceus. “Caleb used to be a little stinky but he's much better now! Molly's the one who got us all to bathe together. He said it was a good for bonding! It's nice, right? Being together...even though technically we're not all together right now, technically. I hope Yasha's alright.”

Beau glances over at him and he knows she feels the same dull ache in her chest at the mention of their fallen friend but she turns away and submerges into the water.

\--

That night, on his way down the hall to his room, he thinks he hears Jester in her room. “...this is a very tricky spell, you know? But we're safe here so I don't think anyone will mind. Caleb said you might not be there anymore, but I think you're still here with us, Molly. You were probably soaking in the bath and enjoying yourself or maybe with Yasha because she seemed really sad and I know you won't want to hear this but I'm sorry, Molly. I'm really sorry I wasn't there to heal you. I promise to do better when you come back. So please come back soon—wait! I don't get that many words, do I? Aw, balls!”

Snapping Frumpkin into his arms, he holds the cat close and shuffles away, prepared for another sleepless night.

“Caleb? How are you? Are you alright?” Nott asks quietly, her goblin eyes gleaming in the dark.

Nodding, he sets Frumpkin down on the bed and slips his coat off. “I am fine, Nott. How was your day?”

“Productive.” There's a long pause. “The city feels very quiet.”

“Ja, well, with the war happening, there isn't much room for celebrations anymore,” Caleb says, hoping she'll take the bait and change topics.

Nott shakes her head. “It feels strange to be here without Mollymauk. We didn't always get along and I still don't know if he was really a good person—and the _secrets_! He had so many secrets! We still don't know anything about him or his past!”

He wraps an arm around the goblin and holds her against his side, his own words failing him.

“We didn't get to crack the case on this one. I bet we could’ve blown it wide open with Jester back...though if Jester had been there, this could have gone very differently.” Small, spiny fingers dig into his shirt. “I miss him, Caleb. We shouldn't have lost him.”

“It wasn't something any of us could have predicted,” he says, his throat tight. Even as the words come out, he can't help but echo her sentiment. “We can only move on and continue living.”

She nods. “That's a very Molly way of thinking. You're right as always, Caleb. I hope we do right by him.”

Caleb leans down and kisses the top of her head. “You of all people will. I'm sure of it, Nott the Brave.”

He waits for Nott to fall asleep before slipping out of bed. His feet take him back down the hall and over to the banister overlooking the tavern below. For a moment, he thinks he sees a purple tiefling glaring at a card in his hand, but then he blinks and the image is gone.

Sighing, he tucks himself into a corner and pulls out a book and tries to distract himself from the heaviness in his chest by reading.

It's not something he can read away.

\--

The trip down to Trostenwald doesn't lighten up even after they release Gustav at Caduceus’ cryptic encouragements.

That night, Caleb comes out of his room in the Nestled Nook to find Beau sitting in the tavern staring at a familiar deck of cards. From where he's standing, he hears faintly, “What the fuck's this supposed to mean, Molly?”

He briefly debates returning to his room but the monk looks up and catches his eye. Stifling a sigh, he walks over and joins her. “Couldn't sleep, Beauregard?”

“Something like that,” she says with a shrug. “Just thinking. I don't get what the fuck these cards are supposed to mean.”

“You're asking the wrong person,” Caleb says. Despite being offered, he never had a reading done. “I have no experience with this sort of thing.”

Beau studies him for a long moment before putting the cards away. “It's probably all just bullshit anyway. Say, Caleb.”

Bracing himself for whatever's about to come next, he asks, “Ja?”

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but are you still fucked up over Molly?”

His heart skips a beat. “Excuse me?”

The young woman sits back and shrugs. “I just mean you've been avoiding talking about him or saying his name in the last little while. Listen, the whole thing fucked me up bad too so I kind of get it.”

“I did not realize I was doing that,” he says carefully.

Beau nods. “It’s easier to just not think about it. Yeah, I get that.” She follows his gaze to the cards. “You know, Fjord keeps bringing out his sword now that it's fused with Molly's and Jester sends him messages sometimes. Just to keep him updated.”

Caleb glances over toward the direction of the room, remembering what he heard back in Zadash. “Is that so? Has she received a response?”

“No, but apparently it makes her feel better so I thought I'd try it.”

“And how is that working for you?” he asks.

She shrugs. “I'm not sure. These cards definitely belonged to that obnoxious asshole, nothing makes sense. I guess I feel better when it feels like I'm talking to him or if I think he can hear me somehow, but it's real shitty when I remember why I have to do this in the first place.”

“So mixed results.”

“Yeah.” A deep sigh. “It should've never gotten to that point.”

He swallows hard. “No, but it did. We all knew the risks going in and I think Mollymauk would be happy knowing we saved our friends and all survived. He probably would've liked to watch Lorenzo die though.”

Beau blinks before smiling softly. “There you go. You said his name.”

“...so I did.”

“I'm just saying that you kind of get stuck inside your own head sometimes, so maybe it'd be good to say things aloud every now and then. If not to us, then to _someone_ ,” she says. He must be making a face because she immediately scowls. “I'm trying to be helpful, man!”

“Ja, and it was. That's why I am surprised.”

A few weeks ago, Beauregard wouldn't be acting this way. She would've been more abrasive, harsher in her word and tone.

She leans over and punches him in the arm. He instinctively recoils and swears under his breath, retracting his thoughts. “That’s for getting smart with me. Whatever. I'm going to bed. Good chat.”

Waiting until Beau disappears to turn in for the night, Caleb sits at the table, looking around at the empty tavern. He remembers the pair of colourful circus people sauntering through the door—well, one sauntering and the other looming.

All of that seems so long ago.

But then, long ago is what his mind specializes in retaining—remembering and introspecting and regretting.

_“Don't use me as fuel for your pain.”_

Caleb quickly cuts his darker thoughts off.

“Mister Mollymauk,” he tries saying to the empty space. It feels off, like he's speaking to air. Thinking back, he recalls lying in a bed with scratchy linen sheets. Across from him, moonlit lavender skin, crimson eyes, and jewellery twinkling in the low light.

_“Caleb.”_

_“You know, if you keep saying my name like that, things will get hard on the road.”_

_“...did you just?”_

_“No, I did not.”_

He pauses the memory at the laugh, so clear it feels like he could reach out and touch the tiefling. Taking a deep breath, he starts, “Mister Mollymauk, we set Gustav free earlier today. I think you would be pleased. I think you would also be pleased by how many people asked after you. You seem to have left quite an impression.

“You know, death is a funny thing. It changes people’s perspectives and they all react differently. Beau remembers you as the best of us. Jester still sends messages to you. Even Nott misses you. And I…” He pauses. “Well, I remember you exactly as you were.”

\--

The trip down to the Menagerie Coast is a flurry of chaos. Suddenly finding himself standing on a ship with Beau pacing next to him, muttering under her breath, “We fucked up, Molly. We fucked up.”

He pulls Nott aside and they come up with a loose plan to keep the group from fracturing. A heart condition doesn't sound like an easy thing to fake and he doesn't understand how it's supposed to bring anyone together except maybe for a pre-emptive funeral but he's willing to give it a try.

The next few days see them running through Nicodranas in disguises and leaving with a full crew and a tortle and attacked by harpies.

In the aftermath of the battle, finally left alone, Caleb runs a hand through his hair and sighs, “Mollymauk, I have a perfect memory so only the past comes to me clearly. I am not so good at predicting reactions.” He looks up at the night sky. “I wonder how you would find this situation.”

“I imagine he would find a way to make the most of it,” comes Yasha's quiet voice.

Caleb whirls around, aghast that he was overheard. The woman doesn’t seem to pay him too much mind as she bends over one of the fallen harpies before Nott and Caduceus can get to it. With great care, she tucks a feather into her book of flowers and nods to herself, seemingly satisfied with her acquisition.

Desperate to throw the attention off himself, he blurts, “You know, Beauregard has a very nice peacock feather you might like. She got it from the man who sold us the animals.”

Yasha seems to consider the idea for a moment before shaking her head. “I wasn’t there for it. It won’t mean anything.”

They go quiet for a moment as Nott butchers her way through one of the corpses while the other is brought down into the hull to be turned into _something_. When he turns back to her, he sees her gaze back on him and realizes he’d missed his chance to retreat.

“Caleb.”

“Ja?” he replies weakly.

She’s not looking at him anymore. Instead, she’s turned away, facing the direction they came from. “Can you tell me what happened that night?”

He doesn’t have to ask for clarification. Wringing the sleeve of his coat, he wishes Beau or anyone else was here to do this. Momentarily conflicted, he has no desire to relive that night even just mentally, but if something like that happened to him, he would want Nott to be notified.

So he tells her.

And although her fists are clenched the entire time, Yasha listens.

“I have never seen him so focused. He seemed very confident like he knew exactly where you were,” Caleb says quietly, recalling their last morning when they had all shared a tent, using Molly as their personal heater.

_“It's them alright. Yasha's there.”_

_“How do you know this, Mollymauk?”_

_A smile. “I always know when my charm is near.”_

Yasha inhales sharply and turns away.

“We were overconfident and we weren't enough.” He tells her about Molly leaping over the cart to join Beau against that towering figure. It all happened in seconds and then the world seemed to stop.

Red seeping into the ground—into the colourful and lovingly crafted coat with 39 stars.

Lavender skin once vibrant, now pale. The twinkling jewellery once musical, now silent.

And crimson eyes, glassy and unseeing, pointed up at the dark grey skies.

“I am very sorry, Yasha.”

She shakes her head. “Molly did what he thought was right. I was afraid you'd all moved on already, but you still think of him. You still talk to him.”

Caleb ducks his head. “...ja, sometimes. Do you think he will come back? He did once before, or so he said.”

“I hope so,” she says. “If he does, I will know.”

He blinks. “How?”

“He's my Mollymauk,” is all she says.

Although he wishes he understood the meaning of that, he nods and lets it slide. “Well, if it happens, I hope you will let me know. It troubles me to think we may not be on the continent at that time, but Jester can use her spell to contact him to make sure he knows he's not alone. I...it is difficult for me to move on. I don't think any of us have,” he says. “If anything, we are trying to move in a direction he would be proud of. To do good.”

Yasha looks around then back at him. “We stole a boat.”

A snort escapes him before he can rein it back in. “Ja, that was a mistake. _The_ Mistake, specifically.” Somewhere in his mind, he can hear a familiar cackle. “Mollymauk is probably laughing at us right now.”

For the first time since she rejoined them, Yasha's lips curl up just ever so slightly. “You can hear him too.”

\--

He changes his habit from muttering to himself when he's alone to muttering to that departed member of the Mighty Nein. It's a strange habit that brings him a strange amount of comfort to simply utter that name and create a connection no matter how one-sided.

“Mister Mollymauk, Jester came to me for love advice. I had none to give her, obviously, but I realized that I haven't thought of Astrid at all lately. She was handsome and you were beautiful. And now you're both beyond my reach.”

“Mollymauk, I think it's safe to say that we are very much fucked.”

“Mollymauk, we are finally returning to the continent but I don't know if we will venture up. Yasha hasn't said anything so you probably haven't moved.”

“Mollymauk, I know our views on the past were very different. I wonder what you would think if you knew what I did. You would not approve of what I want to do. I am a garbage person, but you knew that already.”

“Mister Mollymauk, I am drunk and I...I miss you. Just that. It doesn't have to mean anything more.”

“I wonder what you would say if I said I actually meant more.”

“You cannot answer me. I am being stupid. This is stupid. I am going to stop now. Goodnight, Mollymauk.”

\--

 

Epilogue:

Nearly a year passes before the Mighty Nein return north. Clearly reluctant, they push one another, arguing that it's been too long since they've seen Kiri and it would be a shame to miss her growing up.

Yasha disappears early one morning in the middle of their trip, leaving behind nothing but one of the many feathers she had collected over the course of their latest adventure. Unlike the other times though, she took one of the horses.

Caleb spends the rest of the ride up to Hupperdook wondering if he should've read more into the gesture.

Caduceus leaves them temporarily in Hupperdook, opting to check on his family and the temple and spend a little time with them before their next journey. And because Caduceus has that uncanny ability to read minds, he places a hand on Caleb's head before leaving and smiles. “Something will be there.”

His memory immediately flashes back to Glory Run Road, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice small. In the past year, he's gained a better understanding of time magic but nothing concrete to be used.

“Something will be there,” Caduceus merely says again, serene and as cryptic as ever.

Confused, he doesn't answer. Instead, he dwells on it for two days before the need for an answer finally spurs him into action.

Nott offers to go with him. Of course she does. But he shakes his head and promises to return at the first sign of trouble. She throws a handful of sending scrolls at him anyway, and he talks the deal down to two messages a day rather than the hourly rate she originally wanted.

The road there has changed since the last time they went down it. Grass and flowers have sprung with the coming of spring and the sun is high and bright in the sky.

He rides for most of the day, only passing two other caravans that were seemingly driven by merchants. After casting Detect Magic and spotting nothing, he breathes a sigh of relief and continues on his way, stopping only to rest for the night in his magical hut.

Caleb wakes early in the morning to continue his journey after sending an obligatory message to Nott.

The trip takes him another full day of riding, but after that, in the still morning light, he arrives at the familiar hill and he can barely hear the sound of the horse's trotting over his hammering heart.

He sees the fight flash before his eyes. Helpless, hopeless, Mollymauk on the ground.

Eyes never shut.

Shaking his head, he bounds down the road and feels himself go slack-jawed.

There, where the grave of Mollymauk once stood, barren and alone, is now a blooming garden. Flowers of every shade cover a small patch of ground in front of a tree that could only have reached that size through magical means.

Beautiful even in death, his traitorous mind whispers.

Closing his mouth, he slows the horse and approaches cautiously.

It's already too late to tamper his hope.

As he slides off the horse to bring it forward, Caleb investigates the dirt to find it disturbed and frowns. Maybe he's too late. Maybe another carnival has taken him away already, or worse. Maybe it was a grave robber.

“Maybe I am being stupid,” he mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn't have come.”

“Mister Caleb?” a voice suddenly comes from behind him. “I know you have a perfect memory but I'm afraid I don't exactly look like I used to at the moment.”

His breath gets caught in his throat as he turns around.

“ _Mollymauk_.”


	3. Yasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Yasha's friendship is so important to me

Walking, wandering, lost.

Aimless but searching, mindless but purposeful.

And then light.

The bright colours of a circus tent.

She furrows her brows and her feet instinctively move towards it. Whether it's the colours or the promise of people, something draws her in. Outside, to the side of the tent, she sees people arguing.

Two people, bristling and defensive.

One person, relaxed but wary.

“Look, you asked for a reading and I can't help if the cards tell you what they did,” the one says, vibrant, scarred lavender skin and equally colourful clothes.

“She’s _supposed_ to marry me! It's my right to!” a human man says, meaty hands reaching for a blade.

The tiefling cocks his head, revealing an intricate tattoo running up the side of his neck, a lazy smile on his lips. “Oh, she's _supposed_ to, huh? Does she know about that? I feel like she might have conflicting opinions.”

Sputtering, the man charges forward to attack, his friend quickly moving to back him up.

Without thinking, unarmed, she rushes forward and grapples the friend.

“What—who the fuck are you!?”

The tiefling draws out a pair of ornate scimitars and raises a brow at her before smiling and playing along. “There you are, dear! Nice of you to join in.”

The man turns around and scowls. “That's not fair!”

“Unfair? You and your friend just tried to double-team me. If anything, I'd say _you_ were the ones playing unfair.” He focuses his gaze on the man being grappled and suddenly, he lets out a yelp and begins clawing at his face, his eyes having gone completely black.

“You fucking devil! You'll pay for this!” the first man shouts, turning heel to run away.

She releases the human in her grasp and watches him scamper away in the general direction of his friend. “Wait, I can't see! Wait for me!”

Returning the scimitars to his side, the tiefling straightens up and dusts himself off. “You’re quite the lucky charm, aren't you? I was afraid I'd have to fight them both. Thank you. I'm Mollymauk, Molly to my friends.”

“...Yasha,” she says—the first word she's said for days now.

Two figures suddenly come running out, a lanky half-elf and a larger half-orc. “Molly, are you alright? Desmond said he heard there was trouble!”

Wide grin on his face, Molly saunters over and points at her. “No trouble. I had a lucky charm with me. Meet Yasha.”

The half-elf runs over and takes his hat off for a slight bow. “I don't know what happened but thank you for helping keep this one safe. I'm Gustav Fletching and this is Bosun. Please, we're almost done setting up. Won't you come see our show as thanks?”

She shakes her head. “No, that's alright. I was just passing through.”

There's a light nudge to her side and she looks over to see the tiefling. “Why rush? The show's great fun, I can promise you that much. And not for nothing, but you look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Yasha tries to get a read on this crimson eyes, looking for silent cry for help or deception, but she gets nothing more than carefree honesty. “...I guess I can stay for a little bit.”

“Excellent! Come, I'll show you around! Do you want a reading? I'll let you have one on the house,” Molly offers, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“Didn't you almost get into a fight because of that?” she asks.

Gustav sends him a pointed look but Molly merely laughs it off. “It can be controversial! I can't help what the cards tell me. That's how you know it's real!”

Her lips twitch and she quickly swallows it back.

Following the tiefling to a blanket that had been laid out on the grass, he sits down and pulls out a deck of cards and shuffles the deck with flourish. “So, what kind of reading can I do for you today, my dear? The past? The present?”

She already knows those things all too well. “What's in my future, Mollymauk?”

Smile widening, he spreads the card with practiced ease across the blanket. “Pick three for me, any three, and lay them down.”

Yasha draws three from the middle with a single pull and puts them down.

His eyebrows raise slightly. “No hesitation. You don't believe, do you?”

She shrugs. “I’m withholding my judgement for now, you know?”

“Great, be prepared to be dazzled then,” Molly says, wiggling his ring-adorned fingers. “Do you want the long or short version?”

“The short version’s fine.”

“Short and sweet it is! The show's starting soon anyway.” He flips one of the cards. “First one is the Four of Swords. You can expect a moment of rest and respite, and you look like you could use it, my dear. This will be found with,” he flips another, “the Three of Cups. Friends and community—an existing one or perhaps one newly found? But,” he flips the last card, “the Hermit. You will also continue your search, often alone.”

Yasha inhales sharply and but otherwise keeps her expression blank.

Unfazed, the tiefling gathers the cards back up, taking a moment to study her. “Well, hope that was helpful but who can tell with the future, right? I do hope you’ll find it though, a moment of rest.” He gets back up onto his feet, carefree smile back on his face. “Come on, the crowd will be let in soon. I'll make sure you get the best seat in the house, or, I guess the best spot on the ground in the tent.”

Again, she feels her lips twitch.

\--

Life with the carnival is a peaceful one compared to her turbulent one before. She shares a tent with Mollymauk, sleeping in simple cots and an abundance of blankets. “Ornna knits,” Molly tells her with an exaggerated whisper. “We'll all die before she'll admit it though.”

Another thing Yasha soon finds out is that despite his bright, colourful front, Molly's plagued by as many nightmares as her. The first time she's woken up by that quiet gasp and rustling, she pretends not to notice only to find him sitting on his cot the next morning, sewing stars onto his coat the way Desmond taught him.

Yasha pushes her cot next to his after that, ready to reach out to wake him up. In return, when she sees Zuala and is sinking into darkness in her sleep, she's woken up by a tail wrapping reassuringly around her calf—not enough to jolt her violently awake, but just enough to bring her back.

She sleeps easier after that.

\--

The first time the storm calls her away, Molly's already sitting up in his cot, listening to the rain and thunder. She wonders if he's going to try to stop her or demand an explanation, but he merely watches, crimson eyes occasionally flashing as lightning crackles above them.

“Will you come back?” he asks quietly, none of the bravado he normally puts on display for the world.

“I'll try,” Yasha replies, surprised to find that she means it.

Molly's tail curls lazily behind him and he smiles. Gesturing for her to get closer, he pulls her down gently and gives her a kiss on the forehead. “Good. I'll see you soon then.”

And he lets her leave.

\--

She returns a week later, tracking the circus to a nearby town. Wandering through, she finds Molly and a few of the other carnival members in the bathhouse. The tiefling's head is lolled back, his eyes closed, and he doesn't react to her entrance at all. “Mollymauk.”

Without opening his eyes, he raises a hand and waves. “Hello, dear. I was wondering how long it'd take you. Welcome back.”

Yasha smiles and crosses her arms. “This seems nice, but you should at least check who it is.”

“No need. I always know when my charm is near. Besides, no one in this town's willing to bathe with a tiefling apparently,” he tells her with a shrug.

“Maybe it's just you,” Ornna simpers without any heat. “Can't say I'm complaining though.”

Glancing back towards the entrance and thinking about how the hostile woman in front was acting, she frowns. “So that's what that was about.”

“Small town folk. Can't say I'm surprised. At least they deigned to let us in,” Bo says with a sigh.

Sitting up, Molly looks over at her and smiles easily. “Don’t let it trouble you. So, how long will you stay this time?”

“I don't know. Until I'm called away again.”

She gets a round of puzzled looks from everyone except Molly, who quickly beckons her over. “You should stop wasting time and come on in then! The water's great, the company's great, a private bath like this is hard to come by.”

\--

The rest of the carnival members accept her into their family easily and without question, but it's Mollymauk who really takes her in. She spends her days following him, keeping him out of trouble, watching him entertain the other members with his antics. In return, he adorns her hair with beads and ornaments, braiding blue into the locks.

“I don't know why you put up with him,” Yuli tells her one day.

Yasha merely shrugs while Mona swats her sister on the arm. “Leave her be. She's already keeping the baby out of trouble. We can't expect anything more from someone who leaves every other week.”

Ignoring the jab, she merely looks over to where Desmond is teaching Molly how to juggle. “Why do you call him the baby?”

The two exchange glances and shake their heads. “You should ask Molly.”

She ponders it for the rest of the day until they retire to their shared tent. “Why do they call you the baby? Shouldn't that be Toya?” she finally asks. Then she quickly adds, “You don't have to say if you don't want to.”

Molly smiles and shrugs. “It’s alright. I suppose that's because I'm not quite two yet.”

Her brows furrow. “Two years here…?”

A laugh. “Two years old in general. Come sit with me. It's quite a tale.”

\--

Yasha tells him about Zuala after a particularly bad night. In wake of their dreams, they're both sitting on her cot, leaning against one another for comfort. She tells him about Xhorhas and the swamp and the customs of her tribe and how she failed the love of her life.

Instead of offering empty platitudes or admonishments, Molly asks, “What does it feel like to be in love?”

The question gives her pause.

“You know, it's like,” she makes a gesture with her hand, struggling to find the words, “warm and beautiful. Like seeing flowers for the first time.”

Tail wrapping around her ankle lightly, he asks, “You didn't have flowers where you came from?”

“No, the only flower there was her.”

Molly hums and kicks his feet, and they sit in comfortable silence for a minute before he says, “I don't think this body's ever felt love. Fear and cruelty come very easily to me.”

Blinking, she turns her head, careful to avoid the horns. “Really?”

He may not always be the nicest person, especially to those outside their little circus family, but she would never describe him as “cruel”.

“Gustav said that sometimes, your body remembers things better than your head,” Molly says, rubbing idly at the scars lining his arms. “I think whoever had this body before wasn't very kind to himself or others.”

Yasha considers this for a moment and reaches over to places her hand over his, stopping him from picking at the scars any further. “Well, then it's a good thing you're Mollymauk now.”

The shift in his mood is immediately noticeable. Leaning in, she can _feel_ him smiling as he gives her a kiss on the cheek. “That’s true. You're right as always, my dear.”

\--

When she returns to the carnival again, it feels like going home. Toya, Kylre, and the twins run past her, shouting, “You were right, Molly!”

Jogging after them, Mollymauk takes her by the arm and calls back, “Of course I was!” Turning to her, he grins and pulls her along. “Yasha, you're just in time.”

She allows herself to be dragged away, only asking, “Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise! You'll like it, I promise.”

They walk for a few minutes before cresting a hill to reveal a field of wildflowers. Her feet stop and she stands there, mouth agape.

Toya looks back. “What do you think?”

Awestruck, she can't tear her eyes from the sight. “This is amazing.”

Standing next to her, Molly grins. “Told you. Oh, there's one more thing.” He digs through his pocket and pulls out a book. “Here.”

Yasha looks down at the simple leather-bound book and reads, “ _The Comprehensive Field Guide to Black Pudding_?”

The tiefling immediately starts snickering. “No, I just got the sturdiest looking book. Look inside.” She opens up the first page to find a four-leaf clover pressed inside. Molly leans over and tells her, “A charm for the charm. You said you didn't have flowers where you're from, so I thought maybe if you go back, you might want flowers to show to _your_ flower. It's easy. You just press the flower between the pages and wait for it to dry out.”

She feels her throat tighten as she clutches the book tight. “Thank you, Mollymauk.”

Molly shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs a little sheepishly. “It's not a big deal. You can try doing your first one if you want. There's bound to be at least one nice flower here. And maybe Toya can teach you how to make flower crowns.”

“This will be very special. Thank you. I mean it,” Yasha says and leans over to give his horn a kiss before walking into the field.

\--

Trostenwald seems to signal the end of everything. Standing there outside the prison as Gustav announces the end of the carnival—of their home.

“Kylre went bad. Maybe he'd already always been bad,” Molly mutters, shoulders tense.

She glances over and subtly leans against the tiefling. His tail reflexively wraps around her calf.

As the group walks back over towards the tavern, Yasha lingers behind and asks, “Are you alright, Molly?”

It feels like a ridiculous question to ask of someone who just lost everything they've ever known. She remembers his stories of Gustav giving him his name. Of Desmond pulling him into a bathhouse for the first time and helping him accept his scars through exposure. Of Toya and the twins, teaching him the words he'd lost. Of Ornna bundling him up in blankets and Bo's protection from cruel strangers.

He musters a smile for her. “You know me. I'll be fine.”

Yasha places a firm hand on his shoulder. “This won’t happen to you. You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you. You’re my Mollymauk.”

Wrapping an arm around her, Molly leans in and rests his head against her shoulder. “For now, at least. And you know I plan to make the bloody most of it.” Looking ahead at the group of strangers, he smiles. “These folks seem like an exciting bunch. Maybe I’ll stick with them for a while.”

\--

It’s not hard to see the change in Mollymauk after the night she returns to Zadash.

It makes her bristle to think about how this group of strangers forced the truth out of her friend, but Molly merely gave her a reassuring hug and said, “No matter. Don't let it trouble you, Yasha. I was going to tell them anyway.”

Looking out the window in her room, she silently asks the Stormlord to give her time to keep watch over her dearest friend.

To her surprise, he seems to listen.

She doesn't know how to help though—doesn't know how to stop the dreams and memories from chipping away at Molly. And try as she might to bring him comfort, it always feels like he's the one looking out for her.

Even as the Mighty Nein leave Zadash, Molly continues finding the most beautiful flowers for her and making jokes solely for the benefit of making her laugh.

“I don't think I could've made it this far without you,” she says quietly. They departed from Hupperdook earlier that morning and stopped by a field for a quick midday break. A ways away, the rest of the Mighty Nein flitter about, trying to prepare their next meal.

Molly cocks his head and blinks. “Yasha?”

“I remember you said fear and cruelty came easily to your body but the Mollymauk I know has never been anything less than kind and brave,” she tells him. “I would've been lost without you.”

He smiles and leans against her. “I think it goes both ways. I couldn't be brave without you.” Tucking in a little closer, he tells her, “As long as you keep finding your back, I'll be here waiting for you.”

And then,

“It happened again.”

Kneeling in front of that beautiful coat, now dull and limp without its owner to fill it with _life_ , she screams.

\--

Yasha nearly flees at the sight of the Mighty Nein in Nicodranas. Guilt colours their faces as they apologize to her over and over again and she shakes her head because the only person she's angry at is herself.

It's not her intention to join them but suddenly, she's on a stolen ship, fleeing the port authorities. And she decides to keep them company—to do her best to keep them safe if only because Mollymauk saw something worthy in this group, something that made him want to stay.

If she believed in guidance, Yasha would swear that Molly led her here.

To her surprise, it's Caleb and Jester she finds console in.

It's Caleb she exchanges glances with when Fjord accidentally calls for Molly. It's Molly's name on his lips when he falls in battle only to be saved by that beautiful little pendant. It's Molly they both whisper secrets to in the dead of the night when they think no one else is listening.

Sometimes, they seek each other's counsel if only to confirm that there's something they're both missing.

“I have been unsuccessful at recreating what he did on a whim. It's a little frustrating that I cannot keep it out, if I am being honest,” Caleb mutters.

Yasha glances over. “Not even with your magic hut?”

The wizard shakes his head. “No, it’s not that kind problem. It seems no matter how much light I fill it with, somehow the darkness still lingers.”

She nods slowly in understanding, recalling all those quiet nights in colourful tents and the feeling of a reassuring tail wrapping around her leg, grounding her and chasing off her nightmares. “Ah, yes, Molly always was very good at keeping darkness at bay.”

“Ja, that he certainly was.” Suddenly sheepish, Caleb ducks his head. “I should go check on Nott. Thank you for talking with me. It’s nice to have someone who understands.”

That Mollymauk is gravitated towards the member of the Mighty Nein most trapped within their own darkness doesn't surprise her. On some level, she’s glad that Caleb’s also been touched by the light Molly exuded if only to have a little companionship in her grief.

And then there's Jester.

She's always liked Jester.

Molly liked Jester too.

It's Jester who heals her after her battle with the lightning creature on the ship. And it's to Jester and Caduceus she tells her story.

There's a hand on hers. “I don’t think you lost him. I think Molly's still here.”

Yasha manages a smile. “Yeah?”

The tiefling nods, her tail so much more active than Molly, who timed the sway of his tail to match his saunter. She lowers her voice in a conspiratorial manner. “Sometimes I send him messages still. He hasn't answered yet, but sometimes, it feels like he hears my stories—like how we learnt how to talk to bees!”

This time she smiles for real. She wouldn't put it past Jester to be able to communicate with the dead the way she communicates with her god. “Hello, bees.”

“Hello, bees!” Jester repeats with a happy grin. “Also, you weren't there that time, but Caduceus helped make sure Molly would be okay, so I'm sure he's just waiting for the right time to come back because Caduceus knows _everything_ about death.”

Arching a brow, she glances over from her cup of tea. “What do you mean?”

Caduceus smiles, kind and reassuring. “Oh, it was nothing. I was going to do it anyway.”

“Do what?” Yasha presses.

“Two souls can't reside in the same body for very long,” Caduceus says as if nothing could be simpler. “So I made the earth remember him.”

She looks to Jester who gives her an affirming nod and she returns her attention to her tea. “If you helped Mollymauk then thank you.”

Suddenly, she feels a tail wrap around her leg and looks down, startled. Jester immediately loosens her tail tentatively. “Sorry, I've seen Molly do this for you so I thought you might find it comforting or something. Should I stop?”

Yasha considers the touch and relaxes a little. “No, it's fine. You're right, it is comforting.”

The tiefling beams. “Great, I'll do this for you—just until Molly gets back.”

She nods. “Until Molly gets back.”

\--

 

Epilogue:

The group is on their way back up to Hupperdook when Yasha dreams. She sees beautiful flowers and a tree where grass and snow once grew. She sees a figure standing there, lost and alone. She sees the moons in their place and familiar hand-stitched stars in the sky.

Waking up, she wastes no time leaving. She has nothing to pack, pausing only to grab a bag of grains for the horse. Then she pauses again and pulls out her book.

Caleb had asked her to let him know.

Leaving behind one of the feathers she'd collected from their journey, (Mollymauk would've loved and then quickly come to hate those loud, colourful birds that lined the coast and islands,) she takes off.

Yasha rides for days, stopping at night only to let the horse rest. And when she arrives at the place she'd last seen the resting place of Mollymauk, she finds a beautiful garden. Coming to a halt, she gawks at the grounds, adorned with flowers of every colour and a tall, majestic flowering tree.

And a figure sitting against the tree, hands raised, struggling to fix a broken trinket dangling from his horns. “There you are, dear. Mind giving me a hand with this?”

Although he's not quite the same, with horns of wood and a tail of vine, flicking idly in concentration, she knows him. She would know that soul anywhere—in any form.

She laughs, joy mixed with relief. “You should at least look to see who it is.”

Finally, he looks up and smiles, familiar crimson eyes bright and _alive_. “Nonsense. I always know when my charm is near.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add an additional chapter because I wanted to write a little more dryad!Molly and _reunions_


	4. Mollymauk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out this art](http://milkymacchamoon.tumblr.com/post/183819513868/wanted-to-do-something-special-for-my-100th) by the amazing [milkymacchamoon](http://milkymacchamoon.tumblr.com/)!!! Thank you!!!!

There's a feeling of disconnect.

His very existence seems to flicker out for a moment.

And then he returns.

He opens his eyes to darkness and panic seizes him.

Not again.

He reaches out, expecting to claw away at dirt and rocks but instead, there's nothing. Confused, he stretches his hand out again and waves it around at the emptiness. Although he's certain he's performing the action, he can't see his hand. It's dark, he realizes, because there's nothing to see.

Somehow, that's even worse than waking up beneath the earth.

Frowning, he stills himself and thinks. There'd been a fight. It was early morning and they were chasing people who’d taken away something precious. There’d been so much urgency and desperation that his breath still gets caught at the thought of it. But then—that looming figure and pain. So much pain.

Oh.

Giving himself a quick pat down, while he doesn't feel anything as far as sensations go, he also decides that he doesn't feel dead—doesn't feel quite empty. There are words in his head and faces and places he can remember with fondness.

In his stillness, he finally notices the soft thrum of life ahead of him, reaching far below and stretching high above. Drawn to the warmth, he walks forward, unsure if he's making any progress at all. But he keeps walking, because while he doesn't have any regrets, he still wants to _live_. Steeling himself, he takes a step forward, and another, and another—towards the feeling of life, the brightness of the sun.

And then he's _out_.

Standing in a shaded patch of a beautiful little garden, he narrows his eyes at the sight of the clear blue sky, so different from the sky he last gazed up at. From the dirt, he sees a familiar lavender hand reaching out, ring-adorned fingers frantically digging. Mesmerized, he watches the body emerges.

Still rooted to the spot, he watches the jewellery torn off and parchment crumpled up and tossed aside. And with a scowl that feels wrong on that beautiful face, he watches the stranger leave without ever once looking back.

Blinking slowly, he eventually comes back to his senses and walks over and gently scoops the ornaments up. The familiar shapes and the chime of the jewellery bring forth memories of running around a bright circus tent, surrounded by laughter and enough joy to fill a person; running into battle, somehow both thrilling and terrifying and blood spilt, both his and theirs; tilting his head back for a lover in a tavern room on a moonlit night, all while knowing it didn’t mean anything more.

He looks up towards the direction the person had disappeared off to and wonders what and _how_ he could possibly be without his body.

Frowning, he examines his fingers and finds thin, intricate strips of wood running over his skin. Hands hesitant, he reaches up to find his horns, relieved to feel the familiar curl there if a bit rough to the touch. Behind him, out of instinct, his tail wraps reassuringly around his own leg—because while this body may not remember the act, his soul does.

Returning his attention to the parchment on the ground, he carefully lowers himself onto the ground with stiff knees and picks it up to see well-practiced script fill the page.

‘ _Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. Molly to your friends_.’

Letters come slowly to him, but eventually, the words form in his head. Despite this, his tongue feels slow and thick in this new form and the sounds come out broken and slurred. “Mmm...Moll…” he tries, frustration quickly building.

It's his name.

Countless people have said it.

He should be able to say it.

_Mollymauk._

_My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. Molly to my friends._

\--

Alone for the first time in his two years’ worth of memories, he reads the note to himself every morning.

_‘I am sorry if you are alone when you read this but we could not stay. Try to make your way to the Evening Nip in Zadash and find us through the Gentleman if you can. If not, ask for a message to be sent and we will come find you as soon as we can._

_Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. Molly to your friends._

_You are a member of the Mighty Nein._

_You are very dear to us._

_Please stay safe._ ’

On the first day, he relearns his name. _Molly, Molly, Molly_. He says his name over and over again, afraid that it'll slip his grasp once more.

On the second day, he tries to walk away but finds himself tethered to the tree in the garden. When a carriage drives by, he instinctively retreats and hides in the tree until it passes.

On the third day, he explores the tree inside and out, and he finds a colourful, tattered coat caught in one of the branches. Quite happily, he spends the rest of the day weaving flowers through the holes to fill them up.

On the fourth day, he finds a mushroom in the gardens and only remembers the vibrant colours from that trip.

On the fifth day, it rains and he can't find a puddle big enough to see his reflection, so he tries walking away again. But to his dismay, his feet only take him to a certain point past the roots ( _his_ roots?).

On the sixth day, he wakes up clutching at the patch of gnarled wood on his chest. Another nightmare to add to the repertoire. He recites the names of everyone he can remember and tries another mushroom.

On the seventh day, he feels anticipation thrumming through his body. There's electricity in the air that’s not reflected in the clear blue skies, and the familiarity of it fills him with excitement. He tries to still himself by laying out the discarded jewellery and trying to rethread them through his horns. He's largely unsuccessful when a horse comes galloping.

Eyes still trying to see his horn in his periphery, he calls out, “There you are, dear. Mind giving me a hand with this?”

There's a soft, familiar laugh and it brings to mind strength and kindness, filling him with warmth. “You should at least look to see who it is.”

Molly looks up and smiles at the woman. His friend, his charm, his _Yasha_. “Nonsense. I always know when my charm is near.”

She nearly barrels him over as she runs over and embraces him, effortlessly lifting him off the ground. And all he can do is laugh and wrap his arms around her as she holds him tight. “You're back. _My Mollymauk_. I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner.”

“What are you talking about? I think you've driven your horse half to death, the poor thing.”

Yasha pulls back and studies him, tears smudging her make-up. “Were you alone for long?”

He shakes his head and reaches up to dry her tears. “Not too long. I wasn't very functional for the first little bit anyway. You came at an excellent time.”

“Are you alright?” she asks with a frown. “You know, you said the first time you went through this, they had to reteach you everything.”

Shrugging, Molly tells her, “I’m fine. Maybe I got better with practice. I mean, I also crawled out of a tree this time instead of the ground, which I would consider an upgrade. Didn't like watching that fucker leave with my body though. I paid good money for those tattoos, but I think I lost that fight.”

Yasha laughs and pulls him back in, pressing her lips to his forehead and he melts a little at the touch. “We'll get you new ones. I'll pay for them.” Taking a deep breath, she smiles at him, brighter than he's ever seen. “I'm so glad you remember, Mollymauk.”

“I had a little help,” he admits, pulling out the fragile piece of parchment and carefully unfolding it to show her. “For the longest time, I thought I was going crazy because I couldn't name nine of us. We are terrible assholes. Are? Were? How long have I been gone, Yasha?”

“It's been over a year. I missed you, Molly. We all did, you know? The Nein are still around. Do you want me to find a way to message them?” she offers. “They were travelling to Hupperdook when I left to find you.”

He considers it for a moment and shakes his head, tail wrapping around her leg. “Let's wait a little bit. Maybe another carriage will pass by here and we can wrangle a favour or something. For now, I want to spend some time with my charm. Tell me what I’ve missed, my dear.”

So she stays by his side, showing him the colourful feathers she collected and telling him her stories of their time at sea and up in Xhorhas. In return, he tells her about his time alone and finds her the nicest flower on his tree.

Flipping to an empty page in her book, Yasha presses the flower with care and kisses his re-decorated horn. “Thank you, Mollymauk. You always find the most special flowers.”

\--

Eventually, Caduceus shows up and he's a curious person—although Molly doesn't have a lot of experience with firbolgs to draw from. He circles the cleric, studying him until he gets distracted by his own reflection in that green beetle chest plate.

Turning this way and that to get a better look at himself, he sees that while he retained some of his features and colouring, he wasn't much of a tiefling anymore. With horns of wood and hair that felt more like fine grass, Molly tilts his head up and turns his body around, trying to understand the extent of his change.

When he looks up again, he sees the cleric standing there patiently and straightens back up a little sheepishly. “Sorry, couldn't help admiring myself a little. My name is Mollymauk. Molly to my friends.”

Caduceus merely smiles back as if he hadn’t just been used as a makeshift mirror. “Caduceus Clay. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm glad to see the earth remembered you. That's really nice.”

Blinking, he cocks his head curiously. “I’m not sure what that means, but I'm loving your colour scheme.”

“Oh, thank you. I'm quite fond of it myself.” He smiles and gives a nod at Yasha. “It’s been a good day, hasn't it? How about I make us all a nice cup of tea?”

Yasha leans over and tells him quietly, “He makes tea from dead people. It's pretty good, you know.”

Molly's eyes widen as he watches the cleric harvest flowers from the garden. “That's _brilliant_. Yasha, I have never needed to try anything more. Tea from Mollymauk Tealeaf's tea leaves! I love it already!”

She laughs fondly and lets herself be dragged over to the garden.

In his unhurried pace, Caduceus brings out three teacups from his pack and apologizes, “Sorry, I still haven't gotten around to buying a matching set.”

Bouncing on his heels impatiently, Molly laughs and twirls around, showing off his repaired coat. “You're in perfect company for mismatched, my dear.”

Caduceus smiles and looks down at him with his towering height. “You're a lively fella, aren't you? That's great. I like it.”

“And you seem genuinely nice. How'd you fall in with a band of misfits like the Nein?” he asks.

Yasha nods. “I don't think I've heard the full story yet either.”

Bringing the water to a boil, the cleric tells his story and carefully pours three cups of tea for them.

Molly does a double-take after the first sip. “Oh, I _like_ this! I taste great!”

“You've got quite a complicated taste, Mister Mollymauk,” Caduceus says with a calm smile. “It's very refreshing though. This is something special.”

“I’ve often been told that I'm an acquired taste,” Molly says with a suggestive grin, tail swishing lazily. “You're a genius, Deuce. Man, I bet Beau and Jester had fun with your name.”

The firbolg tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head and merely says again, “You're a genius, Mister Clay.”

“Do the others know yet?” Yasha asks. “Maybe we should send a message back.”

Caduceus merely looks down the road he came from and smiles. “I think you'll have more visitors soon.”

Molly blinks and is about to question that vague prediction, but then he looks over at Yasha, who seems reassured by those words and has gone back to enjoying her tea. Appeased by her reaction, he sits back and smiles at the cleric. “So, where are you off to, Mister Clay?”

\--

Another two days pass and Yasha's out hunting for their next meal when another horse approaches. Molly can feel the tremors in the ground and slips back into his tree.

He watches a human man, shaggy and unshaven but not unclean, approach warily. With his back to him, the man examines the garden and shakes his head, running a hand through reddish-brown hair. “Maybe I am being stupid. I shouldn't have come.”

Ah, he'd know that Zemnian-tinged self-deprecation anywhere. Stepping out of hiding, Molly calls out, “Mister Caleb? I know you have a perfect memory but I'm afraid I don't exactly look like I used to at the moment.”

Caleb whirls around, brilliant blue eyes wide. “ _Mollymauk_.”

He spreads his arms and smiles. “The one and only.”

The hesitation only lingers for a second before the wizard steps in front of him and cups his face gently, studying him. “Is it really you? Herr Clay said something would be here but not what—not _who_.”

Molly laughs. “That's not surprising. I met him a few days ago. He's a hard one to read, that one. Nice guy though, great colours. We had Mollymauk tea, which you should definitely try.”

“Ah, ja, he does that. People tea. It does not surprise me to hear that you like it,” Caleb says, eyes still trained on him. “You look different.”

“Are you memorizing me, Mister Caleb?” he teases.

To his surprise, Caleb pulls him into a tight hug. “I have missed you, Mister Mollymauk.”

“You've grown bold since we last met,” Molly says with a soft chuckle. “It's a good look on you—and so _clean_!”

The wizard looks down as if baffled before nodding in realization. “Oh, well, Jester insisted we all bathe with Kiri in Hupperdook. I can smear some dirt on my face if that would make you more comfortable.”

Pulling back, Molly's eyes widen with delight. “Did you just make a joke?”

Caleb responds with a faint smile.

“You did! Gods, I'm kicking myself for missing this transformation. What else is new? Don't tell me Beau is _nice_ now?”

“It's been a very long year without you,” Caleb tells him. “Beauregard is the perfect monk. She is kind and patient and she recently took an oath of silence.”

He studies the other man skeptically. “You're shitting me.”

Ducking his head, Caleb smiles again. “I am. Beauregard is very much still Beauregard. She can punch ghosts now.”

Blinking, Molly tilts his head, lips curling up quizzically. “Well, that’s new. Were there many ghosts that needed punching?”

The wizard glances skyward in thought and nods. “More than you'd expect. And some demons. Too many demons, actually.”

Tail swaying with interest, he says, “Yasha told me some stories but not that one yet. She told me Fjord's a prolific ball eater now?”

A snicker. “Ja, he's the captain of it, actually.”

Molly leans in and bats his eyelashes. “Tell me more, Caleb. I want to hear your stories too.”

“I also want to know what's happened since you returned. I mean, you've changed your form so something must've transpired.” A pause. “Oh, a moment please, there's something I should do and someone wants to say hello,” Caleb mutters.

With a snap, a familiar cat appears on his shoulder, rubbing against his cheek with a loud purr. Molly reaches up to give the cat a kiss. “Hello to you too, Frumpkin. I was wondering where you were.”

Meanwhile, Caleb pulls out a scroll and tells him, “I will send a message to the others.” He mutters a short incantation. “Nott, it's Caleb. I am with Mollymauk. Please tell the others and come join us as soon as possible. You can reply to this message.” After a brief moment, he winces and covers his ears. “Nott and the others will be joining us. She is very happy you're back.”

Eyes still on the wizard, he merely continues stroking Frumpkin idly.

“Mollymauk? Are you alright?”

Startled from his thoughts, he blinks and nods, smiling at the man’s concern. “I’m fine—great, actually. I was just thinking how amazing it is that I had not one, but two people racing out on horseback to find me.”

Caleb’s shoulders sag a little as he relaxes. “Ja, and there are at least another four on their way right now if Nott’s reply is anything to go by.”

“Excellent, I can’t wait to see them barreling down strangers to get here.” Laughing, Molly reaches out and gives the wizard’s tattered coat a tug. “Yasha will be back later with dinner. Let's go sit in the shade. I want stories.”

\--

He ends up with his head in Caleb's lap and Frumpkin curled on his chest as he listens to more tales of the Mighty Nein. Fingers tease at his hair as the wizard recants his story with unerring detail.

Reaching up, he pulls the hand down and studies the calloused and scarred skin. Caleb pauses when he runs a finger over one of the scars. “Mollymauk? Ah, that's right, I always had them wrapped before. Do you want to hear about it?”

Molly doesn't need to ask to know the significance of the offer or the act of leaving those scars unconcealed. He smiles and kisses the wizard's palm. “You know my thoughts on the past. But yes, maybe later, if you still want to.”

“I will not change my mind,” the wizard tells him matter-of-factly. “But it can wait.”

Letting out a small laugh, he says, “You've grown so much, Mister Caleb. You probably have no need for distractions anymore.”

Caleb looks down at him and shakes his head. “There's still a need, and I also made room for more, ja?”

He pauses, scanning the wizard's face, trying to discern if he had misinterpreted the words.

Blue eyes meet his gaze. Although the darkness is still there, it no longer clouds his eyes the way it once did a year ago. “I still have a lot on my plate and I don't know if this is a good idea—nein, this is most likely a bad idea, but there is room for more,” Caleb says again. Then the sheepishness quickly settles back in. “I, um, if that is okay with you, Mollymauk. You have been through a lot and we only just met again. I would understand if you would rather hear about my past first—”

“ _Caleb_ ,” he cuts in. Pulling the man down for a kiss on the chin and a pat on the cheek, he reassures him, “I don’t need to know your past to know that more sounds great. More sounds _perfect_. But are you sure? If anything, _you_ should be the one hesitating. You've had a year to grow and learn. I crawled out of a tree two weeks ago, if even. I barely even look like myself right now.”

Looking out into the garden, Caleb says quietly, “Mollymauk, I have a perfect memory and I am good at many things like math and puzzles, but I am realizing that I am very bad at predicting things. I thought we had more time. But instead, I watched you die. I buried you here with these hands.”

A shiver runs down his spine as he tries to imagine the scene. “Sometimes bad things happen. It wasn’t something any of us predicted.”

“Still, you were a very steep price to pay, and I…” He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a weary sigh. “I have had a year to mull over this and what I would do if you came back. There are no walls here. No doorway to lay down my baggage so it is all still here with me,” Caleb says, “but I made room for more. For this. If you want it.”

“Even though I look like this?” he asks, gesturing at his body, hand settling on the gnarled patch of wood on his chest.

Caleb blinks, confused. “Like what? You look beautiful, Mollymauk.”

Molly lets out a soft laugh. “So charismatic too.” After a moment of contemplation, he nods to himself. “Okay.” He reaches up and guides the other man down for a kiss, eyes fluttering shut. “Let's try more, Caleb. Let's try this.”

\--

They haven't moved from their spot when Yasha returns with a dead deer slung around her shoulders. She nods her hello to Caleb and says, “You got the message.”

Caleb returns the nod. “Ja, eventually. Thank you for letting me know.”

Molly immediately lifts his legs to make room for her. She takes a seat and he rests his legs over hers, telling her with a grin, “Yasha, you won't believe the _passionate_ greeting Mister Caleb gave me.”

The wizard reddens and sputters, “Mollymauk, I don't think—”

“‘ _Mister Mollymauk, I have missed you.’_ Just like that,” he mimics, his accent falling short. Judging by her expression, Yasha understands.

She nods and gives his leg a pat of approval. “That’s great, Molly.”

Caleb frowns. “I forgot how insufferable you were.”

Molly reaches up and pokes him on the forehead. “Liar. You have a perfect memory.”

Smiling faintly, Caleb turns to Yasha and tells her, “I sent a message to Nott. The others are on their way. I was just telling Mollymauk about Xhorhas.”

“You should tell him about your accents, Caleb,” Yasha says, barely holding back a smile.

Ears perking with interest, he tilts his head back. “Accents? Did you pick up a thing or two from Fjord?”

Caleb shakes his head. “Nein. I am terrible at accents.”

Yasha tilts her head innocently. “Really? I thought you were very good, you know.”

The wizard narrows his eyes. “I can't tell if you are just being an _Arschloch_ or not.”

“I am being sincere, _ja_?” she says, unable to stop herself from smiling this time.

“ _Ja, ja_ , she's being completely sincere,” Molly chimes in, not bothering to hide his own grin.

“Oh, that’s cute. Now I am even less convinced,” Caleb mutters, brows furrowing. “How did I get stuck here with you circus folk?”

He laughs. “You're the one who came running, Mister Caleb. Now show me your best Jester.”

\--

When the rest of the Nein come running, he feels something flutter in his chest. Sprinting ahead of the group easily, Beau tackles him to the ground, wiping tears and snot on him as she yells at him, “Fucking—don't you dare _ever_ do something that stupid again, you hear me? I will resurrect you and kill you again myself if I have to! You stupid, obnoxious, ridiculous— _gods_ , fuck you, Molly!”

He laughs and hugs her back. “Fuck you too, Beau.”

Jester and Nott don't hesitate and pile on top of them, talking and yelling over one another in a blubbering mess.

“Molly, is that really you?”

“You look so different!”

“Did you get my messages?”

“Do you remember us?”

“We talked to bees!”

“Are you secretly a spy!?”

“Do you want a new tattoo!?”

“You're so lucky you missed out on the sea!”

“ _Fluffernutter!!!_ ”

Helpless, Molly looks over at Fjord who shrugs ruefully before smiling, his tusks poking out just ever so slightly. “Welcome back to the Mighty Nein, Molly. I was wondering when I’d get my roommate back.”

“It's good to be back, Captain Ball-Eater.”

The half-orc pauses. “Now hang on.” He looks over at Caleb and Yasha. “Which of you fuckers told him that?”

They both look at each other and shrug.

Fjord levels them both with a glare before turning back to him. “Just to set the record straight, that's not a thing.”

“That’s right, his pirate name was Captain Tusktooth,” Jester chimes in with mock-seriousness. Then she leans in and whispers, comically loud, “He definitely ate balls though!”

“Jester!”

“You did! You definitely did!” Nott shouts back.

Snickering, Beau calls out, “Yeah, you ate a nice, big ol’ pair of balls!”

Still trapped under the women, Molly bursts into laughter. “Gods, I've missed you terrible lot. Come here, the rest of you! Get in here! If I don't wake up with a sore back tomorrow, we're doing this wrong!”

As the rest of the group pile in, he feels a familiar warmth fill him up even as his body tries to adjust to the strange, new sensation—because while his body may not remember the Nein, his soul does.

And as he gathers his friends in his arms, he feels a familiar sense of triumph.

_My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. Molly to my friends._

_This life starts with me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had to end with eating balls. There was no other possible ending.
> 
> Thanks for reading! It's been fun writing this :)

**Author's Note:**

> I have this theory that Molly was never meant to keep that body


End file.
